


amo, amas, amat

by jolielaide



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Creepy Cabin Stuff, Developing Feelings Under Strenuous Circumstances, M/M, Magical Realism, Mild Gore, Strangers to Lovers, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22017304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolielaide/pseuds/jolielaide
Summary: “Fuck,” Mingyu curses softly, dropping to his knees. “Fuck.”The man blinks at Mingyu again, slow and deliberate. “Fuck.” He parrots.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 10
Kudos: 118
Collections: Haggly Holidays!





	amo, amas, amat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knightspur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/gifts).



> this has a [playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4zSvv5FFJW5ByrUZEHEJPS?si=TVtR0k55TWyEZ7Fqjfzjiw)

_“..and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in in me, and nobody would ever find us forevermore.”_

— **Franz Kafka** , from ‘The Castle’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mingyu is silent as he brews his second cup of tea. His girlfriend had always told him about the magically healing properties of tea, and it’s a little ironic that he only tries it now that she’s gone. Like the tea could cleanse the heartache that’s lodged in his chest like a parasite. Or, more probably, that he just wants to cling to any last piece of her that he can manage. 

Mingyu raises his mug and sips. It tastes nothing like hers. 

A loud thunk interrupts Mingyu’s imminent breakdown— a bird flying into his window. Mingyu breathes through his nose, putting down his cup and shrugging on his jacket and boots. He trudges out into the snow behind his cabin to the window the bird hit. The snow numbs his fingers pink as he digs through it to find the still-warm body of it. No matter how annoying they get, Mingyu can’t help but sigh when he scoops up the bird’s fragile body. 

He drops it back into the snow and piles snow over it, a makeshift grave. 

He’s standing back up when something else catches his eye, a set of deeper imprints, followed by a long, spotty and winding trail of blood. The red of it is stark, almost cartoonish in the vibrancy of contrast against the snow. The tracks lead around and behind the house, most likely those of a wounded animal. They’re too heavy to belong to a deer, but Mingyu’s stomach can’t seem to handle the image of a bear, half ripped open, dying behind his house. 

Tentatively, Mingyu follows them until he turns the corner and comes face to face not with the cold corpse of a deer, or a growling bear, but of a man. Soft faced and blinking dazedly at Mingyu.

“Fuck,” Mingyu curses softly, dropping to his knees. “Fuck.” 

The man blinks at Mingyu again, slow and deliberate. “Fuck.” He parrots. 

“No I— can you walk?” Mingyu tries. The fact that he left his phone turned off and facedown miles away in his apartment back in Seoul is glaring him right in the face. The man looks pointedly at his leg, where the blood is oozing steadily out of a puncture wound in his thigh, then back at Mingyu. 

Mingyu lets out a long, shaky breath, and tries not to hurl his guts at the sight of torn flesh and tendons, and the barest snow-white hint of bone. “Okay. Okay. I’m going to carry you now, okay?” 

He’ll drive him to the nearest town, two hours away, and hope this guy doesn’t die of blood loss in the back of Mingyu’s trunk. 

The man doesn’t object to being lifted, going boneless in Mingyu’s arms the moment he’s picked up. His breath comes slightly ragged at the strain on his thigh. It’s only when Mingyu’s truck comes into view that he starts to struggle, pressing at Mingyu’s chest and arms. 

“Stop fighting, you need to go to the hospital.” 

The man scratches at Mingyu’s neck, harshly, and Mingyu lets him go in surprise. The impact jars a groan out of the man and he screws his face up, gritting his teeth against the pain. Mingyu rushes to his side but the man shoves him off roughly.

“Listen, I need you to let me help you. You need to get to a hospital and get that wound treated.” 

“No hospital.” He says, stubborn. Mingyu sighs. 

“Okay, no hospital. Just let me patch you up.” The man eyes the truck suspiciously. Mingyu crosses a hand over his heart. “I promise.” 

He mulls it over in his head, then nods slowly and holds his arms out for Mingyu to pick him up. Mingyu stifles a laugh. It’s miraculous that he trusts him, even with so few options. Still, Mingyu is tender when he carries him back to the house, receptive to every wince and grunt of pain. 

He sets him down in his old claw foot tub, sparing a second for embarrassment at the rust circling the drain. Mingyu rushes out of the bathroom to find the unopened and forgotten first aid kit. He comes back and finds the man, now shirtless, struggling with his pants. The shirt lies over the lip of the tub, the edges of it torn and stained a deep red. It might have been white, once. Mingyu fishes out a pair of scissors and starts cutting away strips of fabric around the wound on his thigh. The man sighs gratefully, knocking his head back against the tile in relief. 

When Mingyu has cleared away most of the bloody fabric, throwing them haplessly in the trash bin, he turns on the shower and lets the spray hit the man in his tub. It washes away most of the drying blood stuck on him. 

“What’s your name?” Mingyu asks over the din over water hitting the ceramic. The man turns to him with half-attentive eyes. 

“Minghao.” He says quietly, voice hoarse. “What is your name?” 

“Mingyu.” 

Minghao mouths his name silently. He pronounces it gingerly, one arm over the edge of the tub,resting his chin on it. “Mingyu.” Mingyu nods. “Mingyu, can you help me?” 

Mingyu cocks his head carefully. Minghao inclines his head slightly at his leg, like it’s something he’d rather disregard. Mingyu stumbles back.

“No—no. I can’t. You need a hospital, and a doctor. Not me.” 

Minghao shakes his head furiously. “Hospital, hospital, hospital. No hospital. No doctor.” He digs through the first aid kit and pulls out a needle and a spool of thread, pushes them into Mingyu’s hand, closes his fingers around it. “Just you. Do this for me. Help me, please.” 

Mingyu swallows drily and stands, turning away from Minghao. The shower has heated up and the resulting steam makes it hard to suck much needed breath into his chest.

He turns back to Minghao, who’s staring at him patiently, like he isn’t bleeding out in Mingyu’s tub. 

“I only know how to do this from movies and my girl— Enna.” 

Minghao smiles, cocks his head. “Then stick to what you know.”

“We need to disinfect it first.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Mingyu washes the blood out of the grooves in his palms carefully while Minghao sits, pliant, in the tub. He’d cried while Mingyu was stitching up, and his eyes are still red from it. He’s staring now, almost admiringly, down at the jagged black threads running through his thigh. Mingyu knew, at least, to make them as small and as close together as he could manage to minimize scarring. He gently heaves Minghao out of the bathtub, lingering for a moment with Minghao’s arm around his shoulders when he winces, before setting him down on the closed toilet. 

He doesn’t think that the task might be unnecessary before he starts drying Minghao with a fresh towel. Just runs it down his arms, chest and legs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Minghao squints up at him while Mingyu towels his hair dry brusquely, smiling. 

He reaches up and grabs Mingyu by the wrist. “Thank you.” 

Mingyu can’t help it, looking down at their hands, then back at Minghao. He glares a spot over Minghao’s head into oblivion to avoid catching his eye, embarrassed. “No problem.” 

“You need to get that looked at by a professional, or you might get an infection.” He says, nodding slightly at Minghao’s leg but still not looking at him. 

Minghao lets go of his hand and the loss of the warmth is more profound than Mingyu was expecting. No one’s touched him like that in a while. No one’s touched him like anything. 

“I heal well. It will be okay.” He says. Mingyu holds his hand to his chest and scoffs. 

“Yeah, okay. Tomorrow, I’ll take you into town.” 

Minghao pulls a face. Mingyu ignores it.

“Do you want...tea?”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Mingyu boils the tea carefully, sticking to his memory of Enna making it as best he can. Surprisingly, he’s so focused that the memory itself doesn’t hurt him as much as it should.

Minghao makes faces as he drinks, but never says a word. 

“Is it that bad?” Mingyu asks when Minghao tries to mask his third grimace behind a cough. “Do you not like tea?”

“No, I love tea…” Minghao says tentatively. Mingyu frowns and Minghao winces sympathetically. “I’m sorry.” 

“How do you like your tea, then?” 

Minghao hesitates, thumbs playing on either side of the mug. “I’m not sure?”

“How can you not know?” Mingyu half laughs. 

Minghao shrugs casually. “I don’t know much, actually.” 

Something flickers in MIngyu’s brain, like realizing you left the stove on before you left the house. He jumps to his feet. 

“Did you hit your head?” 

Minghao tilts his head, latching onto Mingyu’s panic, and puts his mug down, wary. “No.”

Mingyu breaths through his nose. “Do you see? This is why you need a proper doctor, not me. A doctor would have thought to check for head injuries.” 

“Well, you’ve thought of it now. Check me.” 

Mingyu shakes his head. “No. No, I’m not doing this for you.” 

Minghao’s hopeful expression drops quickly, twists itself into a scowl. He crosses his arms and pushes himself away from the table. 

“It’s not even—bad. My memory is just hazy.” 

“It’s not supposed to be hazy!” 

Minghao pushes away from the table, crossing his arms. It’s easy to see that Minghao isn’t the easiest person to argue with. 

Mingyu lowers his voice, spreads his hands towards Minghao, palms up, complacent. He talks like he would to soothe an injured animal. “How much do you remember?” 

Minghao loosens up and thinks. He closes his eyes for so long Mingyu thinks perhaps he’s fallen asleep— or worse. But then he speaks again, measured. “It’s odd. I remember the house I grew up in, and all the people. But I can’t remember where it is. Or even my mother’s first name.” 

“You don’t sound very worried about it.” 

“That’s because I’m not.” 

Mingyu drags a hand down his face, presses his lips together and hums, anxious. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to town?” 

Minghao shakes his head. “I’m tired, and I would like to sleep.” 

_Unbelievable_. Mingyu looks outside the window, into the pitch-black night. A wicked storm has picked up and snow and wind lash at the windows, rattling the poor little cabin like it’s trying to collapse it. 

“I’ll take you to bed. Then tomorrow, after the weather lets up, we’re seeing a doctor.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The next morning, Mingyu wakes up on the couch with a crick in his neck. He shuffles to his bedroom, half expecting to meet an empty bed. 

Instead, Minghao is exactly where Mingyu left him last, sitting up and reading one of the self-help books Mingyu packed with him. _Your Road to Emotional Wellness_. Mingyu blushes. 

Minghao looks up when he enters and Mingyu can feel his eyes on him the entire time. He picks out clothes for him; a fading blue sweater and old jeans, sets them on the edge of the bed. 

“You should get dressed, we’re leaving soon.”

“Are you sure?” Minghao asks, putting down his book. Mingyu looks up to say something about how stupid of a question and catches sight of his bare chest. He drops his eyes to the ground and bites his tongue. 

“I’ll make breakfast, first.” He says, gulps. He thinks he hears Minghao smiling. 

“I want eggs.” 

Mingyu nods and gets out of there as fast as he can. 

Mingyu pushes yolk around the pan, and chances to look out the window into a blanket of swirling white. Snowstorms aren’t uncommon for the mountains this deep in the winter, but there’s something off putting about the relentlessness of it. He’ll have to dig his truck out at this rate. 

Minghao pads out of the bedroom wearing Mingyu’s clothes, one tuft of hair at the top of his head sticking straight up like an antennae. Mingyu scrapes eggs into his and Minghao’s plates. Minghao sits down and digs in immediately and with gusto. Mingyu can’t help the spark of pride that lights, but he tries to hide it in his plate. 

“You like it?” He asks. 

Minghao pauses his eating, tilts his head. Grins, switchblade sharp. “It’s better than your tea.” 

Mingyu’s smile drops. “Just eat fast, I need to clear the driveway.” 

Minghao twists around in his seat, turning to the window. He turns back to Mingyu. Incredulously, he says “You’re going to clear _that_?” 

“I need to clear it. We need to get you a doctor.” 

Minghao hesitates, “Mingyu..” 

Mingyu gets up and picks up both his and Minghao’s plates and puts them in the sink. He goes back to the bedroom and sifts through his closet, hands Minghao an old jacket. Minghao puts it on cautiously. His face is twisted up like he has something to say, but it keeps falling short of leaving his mouth. Mingyu even pauses longer than necessary for him to butt in if he wanted, but Minghao doesn’t take the bait. 

It isn’t until he’s fully dressed, and has one hand on the doorknob that Minghao does speak up. 

“I don’t think you should leave the house.” 

Mingyu turns. “What?” 

“The storm. It doesn’t seem… natural.” Mingyu rolls his eyes. “No look— you can’t even see the sky.” 

Mingyu follows his gaze outside the window. The clear cut line between the ground and sky is gone, blended into the same blinding white. The path that leads out of the driveway and into the road cut into the side of the mountain is invisible. Mingyu curses.

“I’m sorry.” Minghao says, with round eyes. 

“It’s okay.” Mingyu says roughly. He shoves his jacket off. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

And they do. And they try again the day after that. 

And the day after that. 

And the day after that.

Without knowing it, Mingyu became receptive to all of Minghao’s little habits— good and bad. Especially his sleep pattern— or rather, his lack of one. Not counting the first day, when he was so exhausted he passed out the moment his head hit the pillow, he takes multiple naps spread throughout the whole day, and then doesn’t sleep at all at night. He’s up at odd hours, and Mingyu could never guess as to what he’s doing when he’s asleep.

True to his word; Minghao does heal well. It only takes three days for him to stop wincing, and one more for his limp to disappear completely. He insisted that Mingyu stop carrying him after the first day; it was demeaning. Mingyu tries to hover but it’s hard to help someone as helplessly proud as Minghao. 

The snow never lets up and although Mingyu knows the cabin is stocked with enough supplies to last an apocalypse and a half, there’s still something nagging him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Mingyu wanders out of the shower, and Minghao has found his old chess board and set it up on the coffee table. Mingyu remembers playing, and losing, like this to Enna for whole days at a time. Towards the end of their relationship, it felt like that was all they had for themselves anymore. 

“Mingyu.” Minghao calls out, goading. Mingyu dries his hair off quickly and wraps the towel around his neck to catch stray drops from his damp hair. “Come play with me.” 

“You set up the rooks and bishops wrong.” He points out.

“I did not. That’s just how I play, but I can do it your way if you want.” Minghao says calmly, but his ears are pink as he corrects the set up. 

Mingyu laughs and sits down on the floor across him. Minghao moves first, a pawn, two squares ahead. Two moves later, Mingyu has captured it. 

“You’re not very good at this.” 

Minghao frowns at the board. “It was a strategic sacrifice.”

Mingyu scoffs. They keep playing, Minghao surprisingly heavy handed. He launches a full frontal offense, with no care for his own pieces and loses all his pawns in the first ten minutes. Even with that, he doesn’t lose hope and although Mingyu had him in check a few times, he was too busy fending off Minghao’s many advances to properly attack. 

Mingyu barely wins. 

“Not much of a strategist, huh?” Mingyu asks, smugly packing up the board. Minghao doesn’t reply and he laughs. 

Enna was predictable, to some degree. Her offences were planned ten moves ahead, and even if Mingyu could see through them early enough to intercept them, it didn’t matter because she would already have a backup move. She was smart like that. 

And the few times Mingyu managed to win, she wouldn’t let him stand up until she’d beat him three different ways, black and blue. 

Minghao sulks, but he sulks quietly. 

“Did you remember anything?” Mingyu asks. It’s an easy question, one that Minghao rarely ever doesn’t have an answer for. 

Minghao leans back into the couch. “I think I have a lot of siblings.” 

“You think? Do you remember their names?” 

“No - see. They were always taking care of me, though.” 

“Maybe you were super rich, and those are all your butlers.” Mingyu teases, nudging Minghao’s knee. 

Minghao squirms. “Maybe.” 

“Is that all? You don’t remember anything about how you got here or how you got that wound?” 

Minghao shakes his head, hand rubbing anxious circles into his thigh. “No. I just woke up - and you were there.” 

Mingyu shifts forward hesitantly and lays his head on Minghao’s knee. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Minghao starts running his hand through Mingyu’s hair, flattening it from the front to the back, gently. In a way, it’s his own apology. 

  
  


* * *

“Onions are the worst evil bestowed on mankind.” Mingyu says through sniffles. He cries out loudly when the chemicals stung his eyes and tears run down his face. 

“Cheer up, Mingyu! Cheer up, Mingyu!” Minghao chants drily, sarcastically. Mingyu isn’t even sure where he learned sarcasm _from_ . Mingyu sniffs again and rubs his face against his shoulder. Minghao sighs sympathetically and pushes off the counter to wrap his arms around Mingyu from behind. He’s gotten easier with these little affections; one off things that don’t mean anything to him, probably. He gives it out so easily, he can’t _possibly_ know the panic it sends Mingyu into every time he slings an arm over his shoulder, or noses too close into Mingyu’s space to say something. 

His head rests on the nape of Mingyu’s neck and Mingyu worries so hard if he can feel how hot it is that he barely notices the pain as he chops the remaining onions in a sort of haze. Minghao’s breath is hot running down the back of his shirt, distracting. 

Mingyu sets down the knife on the chopping board and turns around in Minghao’s arms, changed in. Dimly, Mingyu can picture this exact same scenario going down in his apartment in Seoul, with Enna. Except he knows exactly how that would go down: sex on the kitchen floor. Minghao grins goofily at him, then lets go of Mingyu’s waist to wipe the tears away from his face. 

“Good job. Look - no more onions.” He says, cupping Mingyu’s face, thumb underneath his eye. Mingyu blinks fast. 

“Yeah. No more onions.” 

Mingyu turns again and Minghao backs off to let him scrape the onions into the hot oil in the pan. He adds the previously cut vegetables too and looks back at Minghao proudly. Minghao is leaning against the counter with his elbows and smiling at Mingyu in a way that could almost seem - fond. In the right lighting. 

Mingyu shakes his head brusquely and wipes his hands clean on his pants. 

“I’ll watch the food.” Minghao says to Mingyu. “You can go relax.” 

Mingyu hesitates but Minghao shoos him out of the kitchen, standing in the doorframe and not budging until Mingyu gives up and slinks off to the couch. He sits and scrubs his face with his hands, trying to chase out the thoughts of Minghao that have been coming more often lately. It’s probably just cabin fever, but between Minghao’s easy affections and Mingyu’s still tender heart, things aren’t getting easier for him. 

A few minutes later Minghao comes out from the kitchen with two plates of stir fry. “See?” He says to Mingyu as he deposits his plate in his lap. “Not burnt.” 

“I wasn’t worried you’d burn it.” Mingyu mumbles, digging in. There’s an empty moment where Mingyu realizes what he said and buries his face in his plate, embarrassed. 

“Thank you.” Minghao says and his cheeks are faintly red when Mingyu glances up to look at him. 

The rest of dinner passes in relative silence; Mingyu alternating between staring openly at Minghao eat and ducking down when he’s quiet. At the end, Mingyu drops the plates in the sink and walks Minghao back to the bedroom. 

He leans against the doorframe and watches as Minghao chucks off his pants and buries himself in the sheets. He hadn’t realized it before, but the bed is comically large for Minghao, who looks so small and vulnerable wrapped in the sheets. Mingyu clears his throat. 

“Goodnight.” He says, turning around. 

“Ah - wait.” 

Mingyu turns around, his heart catching in his throat. He forces his voice to be steady. “Yeah?”

Minghao shifts, wrapping his fists in the sheets anxiously. “Is the couch… okay?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want to - sleep here tonight?” 

“It’s okay. You need it for your leg.” Mingyu replies easily, a bit touched that Minghao’s thinking of him. 

Minghao looks beyond frustrated and huffs loudly. “Mingyu. Come to bed.” 

“Uh - now?” Mingyu asks stupidly. Minghao nods, rolling over and patting the space behind him. Such a blatant invitation has all of Mingyu’s blood rushing to his face. Shyly, he strips off his shirt, hyper aware of Minghao watching him the whole while. 

He slides into the bed behind Minghao and lies on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling. He can hear Minghao’s soft breathing beside him and it’s sending him into overdrive. He lies stiffly, tries to regulate his breathing so Minghao would think he’s asleep.

“I can’t sleep if you don’t sleep.” Minghao huffs, sounding annoyed. Mingyu starts to apologize but Minghao flops over, burying his face in Mingyu’s bare chest. Mingyu’s heart pounds but instinct has him wrapping an arm over Minghao’s waist, curling over him like a cocoon. 

From then on, Minghao didn’t spend a single night without Mingyu. He must have been craving the comfort, the warmth, as much as Mingyu had been. But the thought of Minghao lying awake, staring at the same white ceiling Mingyu stared at from the couch, both of them wishing for the same thing, instills something a little like hope. Something far too dangerous for Mingyu to be indulging in. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Minghao blows on his soup with one hand holding his bangs out of his eyes. Mingyu laughs and runs his hand through the back of it. There’s a few silky strands caught on his fingers when he pulls away. 

“You’re shedding.” He says, showing him the hairs. Minghao frowns. “You should let me cut your hair for you.”

“I don’t trust you.” 

Mingyu gasps and covers his mouth. “You don’t trust me? I stitched you up! I saved your life!”

“Hair is different.” Minghao explains, half smiling into his bowl

“No, it is not.” Minghao opens his mouth to argue but Mingyu cuts him off. “I’m going to cut your hair.” Mingyu says. 

After dinner, Minghao strips down to his underwear and sits on the edge of the bathtub patiently. Mingyu digs out the pair of haircutting scissors he used on Enna in the past and washes them. He dries the blades on a towel as Minghao fidgets. 

He carefully parts the hair where he wants to cut it, down the back and up the tops of his ears. Minghao squirms at the first touch of the cold metal against his skin and Mingyu shushes him. 

Mingyu cuts his hair carefully, thumb subconsciously running over the smooth skin at the back of his neck. There’s a scattering of moles there, and Mingyu spends more time trying to pretend he’s not staring than he does actually cutting Minghao’s hair. Once, he pretends he’s clearing the hair from Minghao’s back and brushes his fingers over the top knobs of his spine. Minghao sighs, deep and low. 

Later, Mingyu fluffs Minghao’s newly clipped bangs, proud. Minghao rubs at the bared area on the back of his neck worriedly.  
  


“See? You look handsome now.” 

“I wasn’t handsome before?” Minghao says, pouting up at Mingyu. 

“You… You should take a shower before you leave. I don’t want you getting hair in my bed.” 

Minghao makes a face at him, but dutifully drops the subject. 

He comes out of the bathroom with his wet hair hanging down around his face. He’s wearing one of Mingyu’s larger shirts. 

“I want to go to bed.” He says, rubbing his eye. The sleeve of Mingyu’s shirt slips down his elbow. 

“Then go to bed. I’ll join you in a little.” Mingyu blushes even as he says it, turning away. Sharing a bed with Minghao should be old news to him by now but, somehow, every night as he gets ready for bed, the fact of it hits him anew and he’s unable to sleep for hours. 

“Why can’t you come now?” Minghao whines, pouting at Mingyu from the doorway. He rests his weight on one shoulder, crosses his arms and frowns down at him. 

“I still need to clean up the bathroom.” Mingyu says dismissively. He looks up and Minghao is still frowning at him from the doorway. “You’re being needy.” 

Minghao has the decency to look embarrassed. “You can clean in the morning.” Mingyu doesn’t answer him. “Please?” 

Mingyu stands up, gives in, and Minghao grins. It’s so easy to surrender when it comes to Minghao— easier than it ought to be. And the progression is starting to scare Mingyu. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


For a lack of anything else to do, and Mingyu’s own tendency to be too careless with himself, Mingyu decides to teach Minghao how to sew. They have one of his old university hoodies flat on the dining room table, which Mingyu moved to the window for better lighting. Mingyu has the neck and <waistline> pinned to make it easier for Minghao to wear.

“There’s a machine for this, too, you know. It does all the sewing for you.” Mingyu comments, voice low. The atmosphere has dipped into something quiet and cool, the still surface of a lake, and he’d hate to ruin it. 

“Then why aren’t we using it.” Minghao replies disdainfully. Mingyu turns to face him and realizes just how they’d drifted together, shoulders pressed together, knees knocking. Mingyu looks down the bridge of his nose at Minghao, the delicate sweep of his eyelashes flutter; demure. 

Mingyu swallows. “Uhm.”

Minghao threads the needle up again and it slips, poking his finger. He frowns at it and raises it up to show Mingyu. “See? Look what it’s done.” 

“You did that to yourself.” 

Minghao makes a fussy noise and sticks the tip of his finger into his mouth, which Mingyu quickly pulls out. 

“Stop it. Let me get you a band-aid.” Mingyu says, standing up. He fishes a mostly empty box out from one of the dusty kitchen cupboards. 

He sits, and Minghao watches intently as he tears the wrapper and peels the paper from the band-aid. It’s all very— uncomfortable isn’t the word. Tense. Mingyu takes Minghao’s hand in his own and wraps the bandage around his finger, pauses, then raises it to his lips and kisses it. 

“There,” He says, hoarse, face on fire. “All better.” 

He drops Minghao’s hand and Minghao lets it fall, land softly on Mingyu’s knee. He glances down at it and back at Mingyu, blushing. Mingyu places his hand on top of Minghao’s and Minghao shoots him a look like: _See? Now we’re both embarrassed, and you’ve accomplished nothing._

Mingyu swallows drily and moves to take his hand back but Minghao grabs on, parts his lips. Deliriously, Mingyu notices that the inside of his lip is stained red with the blood from his finger. There’s no telling who leans in first, but they keep inching closer, two magnets, great neutron stars, Minghao’s breath washing over Mingyu’s face. It’s minty. There’s no mint in the house. 

Their noses brush and Mingyu’s heart stutters, the pounding of it so loud and obvious in his ears. He opens his eyes and looks at Minghao to see if he can hear it too but something cuts through his senses. The crunching of fallen snow, rhythmically piercing through the gentle haze that had settled. Mingyu sits up in his chair and Minghao, eyes still closed, falls into empty air. 

“I think there’s something outside.” Mingyu says, tamping down the urge to explain himself or apologize. 

Minghao flushes furiously, embarrassed and - a little angry. His voice is hard and cold when he gets up and says, “Let’s check it out then.” 

Mingyu watches Minghao’s back recede helplessly before he gets up and follows. 

Minghao already has the door open when he gets there and he’s frozen in the centre of the frame. 

“What is it?” Mingyu asks, stepping forward and placing his hand on Minghao’s shoulder before he can think better of it. Minghao doesn’t shake him off so he keeps moving forward. “Minghao? Minghao what’s wrong?” 

A monster in the shape of a deer, skin so thin and weak it’s completely translucent. Mingyu can see it’s lungs expanding, and in the center of it, a steady, beating heart. 

Mingyu curses under his breath. Cold fear slides through his body, like being bathed in slime. The deer’s eyes cut into his, the pale pink of them, vibrant. The deer turns its head and fixes its ghastly eyes on Minghao, and Mingyu feels him tense behind him. He wraps a hand around Minghao’s front and pulls him into him and for once, Minghao doesn’t complain. 

Mingyu takes a cautious step back. The deer tilts its head, a movement that reminds Mingyu so much of Minghao in a dizzying moment that he feels sick. Mingyu keeps walking back towards the open door and the beast doesn’t take its eyes off of them. Minghao has gone almost stock still in Mingyu’s arms, against his chest and doesn’t move except to follow Mingyu’s tiny steps backwards. 

It isn’t until they’re both inside and the door is shut that Mingyu starts hearing again, and the first noise he hears is Minghao’s strangled sobs. His nails dig into Mingyu’s arm and it’s all Mingyu can do not to throw up on the spot. 

He tears himself away from Minghao with effort and runs to the bathroom. He hears Minghao scream his name but he doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t stop until he’s at the toilet and throwing up his lunch.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Mingyu wakes up to Minghao’s looming face, hair hanging over them like a curtain. Mingyu picks up a strand and fiddles with it. 

“Your hair is getting longer again.” 

“Who’s Enna?” 

Mingyu’s first instinct is to shy away. Lie. But the question catches him so off guard all he can manage is an unintelligent “What.” 

“You’ve been saying her name in your sleep” Minghao accuses. He shifts and rests his elbow on Mingyu’s chest, then resting his head down it. Mingyu can’t help it— feeling guilty. But for what? Not telling Minghao? Maybe it’s just Minghao’s arm on his sternum. 

“She’s my - we used to.” He stutters. 

“You used to what? Do you love her?” 

Mingyu, oddly enough, doesn’t blush. “No, not really. I might have used to, though.” 

Their relationship was formed solely to please others. It’s basically law— the 28 year old executive and his foreign girlfriend. Good for attending galas and feeling good about yourself, awful for intimacy. Sex was the closest thing they ever came to being vulnerable about each other, and in the end even that wasn’t enough. Mingyu didn’t even see more of Enna when they moved in together. It’s nothing like the searing intimacy Mingyu feels with Minghao, skinned and hung to dry. 

“Do you miss her?” Minghao asks, squinting up at Mingyu. 

As much as Enna didn’t know about him, she still knew more than most. That meant she could be trusted. That meant she was a friend. 

“Yeah, I really do.” 

“Then you should go see her.” 

  
  
  


Mingyu finds himself out on the driveway, jamming the key into the ignition. His car actually _starts._ It _moves._

It’s like the weather knows he’s not trying to escape, and lightens up so he can drive into the nearest small town.

Mingyu drives through the deserted streets slowly until he spies an old-school payphone standing lonesome on the corner of one, the light still on. He didn’t think they’d actually find one of them.

Mingyu turns off his car under a no parking sign and climbs out. 

“Stay here.” He says to Minghao, one hand on the center console. Minghao doesn’t say anything but when Mingyu shuts the door and turns around Minghao follows. 

Mingyu sighs. “Will you ever listen to anything I say.”

“No,” Minghao says, smiling, he slips his hand into Mingyu’s and squeezes. Mingyu’s retort fizzles on his tongue. He doesn’t want to but he lets go of Minghao’s hand to enter the payphone booth. Like before, Minghao doesn’t take too well to being left behind and follows him inside. 

“Minghao.” Mingyu scolds. Minghao fidgets, pressing his body up against Mingyu’s further. 

“They made this thing too small.” He complains.

“It’s— Jesus.” Mingyu pushes Minghao against the other end of the phone booth, if just to keep his sanity. Minghao frowns at him, put out. Even under the dim fluorescent light, he looks good. His hair and eyes dark. 

Mingyu turns away and slides a few coins into the pay slot, punches in the number he knows by heart with shaky fingers, and puts the cold receiver against his ear. The ancient dial tone rings, loud. It’s not just Mingyu’s hands that are shaking, but Minghao picks his free one from where it’s tangled in the hem of his shirt and clasps it in between his. 

“Mingyu?” Her voice comes clean through the speaker, exactly how Mingyu remembers it, if a little ragged from the poor connection, but still just as strong. Minghao presses down on his hands when he doesn’t speak. “Hello? Mingyu? Is that you?”

“Hi, Enna.” 

“God— Mingyu, I thought something had happened to you. It’s been— did you— my calls? Did you see my calls?” 

Mingyu pauses for a moment before he speaks again, taking in the timbre of her voice, the familiar, halting, sound of her accented Korean. 

“No, I didn’t. Sorry I didn’t answer, I don’t have my.” 

“Where are you? Have you seen the weather? Are you okay?” 

“No, I’m fine. Do you— do you remember the old cabin? I’m here.”

“You’re up there? By yourself?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to say he’s okay, that he’s had time to think and that he understands now. No job can come between them and he still loves her more than anything but something short circuits and what comes out is

“I met someone. He’s with me.” 

Even through the phone, Mingyu can see her by the sound of her. She laughs, a small huff, and Mingyu can see the furrow in her brows and the confused tilt of her head. 

“So soon—?” She asks, gentle. Mingyu can feel Minghao’s eyes on him, boring into his skull. 

“I wasn’t trying to meet anyone.” Mingyu whines. Enna laughs. He closes his eyes and she’s right there. 

“I know you weren’t trying.” She says. “Are you going to tell me about her?” 

“He’s… nice?” Mingyu tries. 

“He’s nice? I’m a little jealous, Kim Mingyu.” 

“No you’re not.” Mingyu accuses, his voice coming out a little sharper than intended. Minghao has stopped sandwiching his hand, and is just plain holding it now, their fingers unconsciously tangled together. He squeezes. 

“No. I’m not. Are you happy? I’m happy for you— and me too.” 

Mingyu swallows. He recalls his best memory of Enna: only a month into dating, he had invited her to his company’s gala. It was the proudest night of his life. He thinks about her newly dyed hair, tumbling red over her back. 

Mingyu opens his eyes and Minghao is still watching him, scrutinizing, curious. Mingyu looks down at their hands. He focuses on Enna’s voice again, the soft, content, tone she takes when she’s talking about a finished painting. 

Maybe that’s all their relationship was: a painting full of dull colours but beautiful all the same. Finished. 

“I’m happy too.” He says. “Maybe I’ll come see you when I’m back in Seoul.” In a tone that makes it clear that he won’t.

“Maybe.” 

The call cuts there and the dingy, robotic voice asks if he’d like to extend his call. Mingyu puts the phone back.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“You think I’m nice?” Minghao asks, pulling off his coat. His face is a weird mix between embarrassment and pride— something else, too. Something Mingyu doesn’t have the words nor bravado to name. He’s also still a little grumpy. His truck stopped in the driveway the moment they got back and refused to start again— dashing his hopes of escape against the rocks. 

“Yeah? Why else would I put up with you?” Mingyu teases weakly. Minghao doesn’t get it—he never really does— and frowns. 

“But, the other night…. I thought…” Minghao says, pausing. Mingyu holds up a hand. 

“Stop. You’re going to give yourself a headache.” 

Minghao stops. 

“You have a very skewed perception of what happened.” 

“Then what _did_ happen?” Minghao asks, skeptically, crossing his arms. Mingyu takes a step back unconsciously and the backs of his knees run into the couch. He quickly sits down on the edge to save himself the embarrassment of losing his balance.

“It doesn’t matter.” 

Minghao uncrosses his arms and throws them up in the air in frustration. Mingyu extends a tentative hand, then draws it back just as fast. 

“I don’t understand you, Mingyu. You’re talk like you want me, but then you pull away. Am I reading you wrong?” 

Mingyu crosses his legs, and uncrosses them again. Runs his thumb around the edges of his fingernails just to have something to do. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“If you want me to back off, Mingyu you have to tell me.” Minghao says. His voice sounds like it’s on the edge of breaking and Mingyu has to fight the instinct he’s developed to reach out to him. “Mingyu, tell me you want me to leave you alone and I will.”

Mingyu chews his lip. It’d be easy to lie and tell Minghao to leave him alone— that he’s not ready or plain doesn’t like him. But it’d also be easy not to lie, to let himself let go of the last of his baggage.

He shakes his head, slow and shy, still not looking up from his hands. “I don’t want you to leave me alone.” 

Minghao sits down beside him, the couch dipping, and places a hand on the back of it, next to Mingyu’s head. Their closeness forces Mingyu to look him in the eye, and he can see Minghao blush, suddenly shy. 

Mingyu leans up and presses their mouths together. A few seconds pass just like that, and Mingyu is only dimly aware of Minghao reaching out to grab his shoulder, but not pulling him closer. Just holding him there. 

They pull away together. Minghao smiles hesitantly at him. “Okay, uhm. This time?” 

Mingyu nods again, a dumb bobble head. He kisses Minghao, gingerly opening his mouth against his. Minghao pushes forward, the hand on his shoulder moving up to his hair and the other settling on his waist, a knee between Mingyu’s legs. 

Mingyu keeps moving back until his back is flat against the couch. When they pull apart next, Minghao is straddling Mingyu’s waist, hair mussed up, spit shining on his mouth. He wipes his mouth, pushes his sweaty bangs off his forehead just to let them fall back down. He leans down and runs his hand down in a straight line from the column of Mingyu’s neck to the bottom of his shirt, rucked up. He can feel Minghao’s eyes linger there before he looks back up at Mingyu again. 

“Hey,” He says. “You never said it.” 

“Never said what?” Mingyu says, only half playing dumb. Most of his mental capacities flew out the window when Minghao thumbed the skin of his stomach.

Minghao smiles, smug. “You never said you wanted me too.” 

Je- _sus._ Dimly, Mingyu thinks he shouldn’t need to say it. He’s sure Minghao could tell even if he never said it, could tell even before Mingyu knew it himself. 

Mingyu pushes himself up on his elbows and Minghao meets him halfway, kissing until their lips go numb and Mingyu’s head feels fuzzy, floating, detached from his body. 

“I want you too.” He murmurs against Minghao’s mouth. Minghao kisses him harder, hard enough to bruise, both hands in Mingyu’s hair. They part for air and Mingyu whispers it again, turns it into a mantra. A manifesto for the religion of loving Xu Minghao. 

_I want you. I want you. I want you._

Minghao tugs hard on Mingyu’s hair, a response, and bites his lip. Mingyu’s groan turns into a whimper leaving his mouth and into Minghao’s. The sound does something to Minghao, and he presses down

Minghao breaks away. His eyes are a little glassy and his hair mussed up from all the times Mingyu ran his hands through it. His lips and cheeks are nearly the same shade of red. He looks - hot - [affected] and Mingyu can almost guarantee he looks exactly the same. 

“Do you want to...?” Mingyu lets his offer trail off, the implication of it hanging heavy in the air is enough. 

“Bed.” Minghao says. Then pauses. “Uhm. Actually, can we - later?” 

Mingyu smiles. “Yeah. Let’s just sleep.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Mingyu wakes up slowly, groaning and sitting up. Beside him, Minghao is still asleep, curved to where Mingyu was sleeping like a flower reaching for the sun. Their legs are tangled under the sheets and Minghao has an arm thrown lazily over Mingyu’s waist. 

Minghao blinks twice at Mingyu, before he smiles. Mingyu’s heart flips over in his chest and he presses the back of his hand to his mouth to stop his own smile from spreading. 

“Good morning.” Mingyu mumbles, staring at the sheets. He gathers enough courage to look and Minghao is grinning at him, full force. He leans up and presses a kiss to the corner of Mingyu’s mouth. 

“Good morning.” He says back. Mingyu turns his head and deepens the kiss, grabbing Minghao by the back of his neck. 

Minghao laughs into it and pushes Mingyu back until he’s flat on his back without parting their lips. It’s all very different from how they were last night. Minghao kisses him slow and long. Languid like the pink morning light spreading its dawn over the white landscape. Deliberate, teasing, until Mingyu is hard and straining against his pajamas. He couldn’t imagine getting this worked up over just kissing, but the way Minghao pushes him deeper into the mattress, the way Mingyu can feel Minghao against him, hard, too. A thousand nerves burst bright behind his eyelids when he closes them. 

“You’ve spent less time in bed with me than I hoped for.” 

Mingyu blushes. “You hoped for?” 

Minghao nods, ducking down and kissing Mingyu once, twice. He pulls away and laughs gently at the dazed look in Mingyu’s eyes. “You’re very handsome, Mingyu.” 

He drags two fingers down the side of Mingyu’s face and Mingyu unconsciously parts his lips when they brush past his mouth. Minghao smiles. 

“ _Very_ handsome.”

Mingyu turns his face into the pillow to hide his blush and Minghao only uses the opportunity to mark a trail of soft kisses down the side of his neck. Mingyu gasps, a sound half caught in his throat. He thinks Minghao smiles against the column of his throat, feels the barest scrape of his teeth before Minghao sinks his teeth in. Mingyu’s entire body jolts, hands flying up to Minghao’s back. 

The movement lines their bodies up perfectly, chest pressed into chest, hips pressed into hips. Mingyu lets out a hiccuping moan at the friction and Minghao groans into the side of his neck. He presses his forehead into Mingyu’s cheek, mouthing at the juncture between his jaw and neck.

Mingyu takes a moment to breathe before he speaks again so he doesn’t sound embarrassingly out of breath. 

“Are you going to eat me?”

Minghao growls and nips at Mingyu’s jaw again. “Yes.” 

Mingyu’s breath catches on a moan as Minghao snakes his hand down between their bodies and presses down, hard, on Mingyu’s crotch. His hips tick up out of his control and he whimpers loudly.

“Wait, Minghao—” He gasps, grabbing Minghao’s wrist. Minghao stops immediately, staring at Mingyu with wide eyes. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks. 

Mingyu shakes his head, pauses, then nods. “I need to— I need to get something.” 

Minghao frowns but eases himself off of Mingyu obediently. Mingyu gets up from the bed and reaches underneath to dig out his mostly empty suitcase. He unzips the top and pulls out the bottle of lube a different, more hopeful Mingyu put in there, who thought he might have the time to properly get himself off. He throws it on the bed and turns back to face Minghao. He has his legs tucked underneath him and his hands curled into fists on top of his knees. Unthinkingly, Mingyu copies his position, the bottle of lube sitting in between them making the scene almost comical. 

“I’ve never— I don’t know.” Minghao starts. He’s clawing his nails up the side of his thigh and Mingyu reaches out and covers his hand with his own. 

“It’s okay,” He says, using the hand to pull Minghao back on top of him as he leans back into the bed. “I’ll help you through it.” 

Mingyu grabs a pillow and puts it underneath his waist before he pulls down his pyjama bottoms down in one go and Minghao’s eyes instantly zero in on his flushed cock, bobbing slightly and curved against Mingyu’s stomach. Mingyu goes red and stutters through pouring lube into Minghao’s hand. He hooks a leg over Minghao’s shoulder and reaches down, presses his finger against his puckered hole, too shy to say it, and Minghao follows suit. 

The lube is cold at first but as Minghao keeps a steady pace, other fingers splayed across Mingyu’s ass, and one pumping in and out of him. 

“Good. You’re doing so good. Can you add another?” Mingyu asks, swiping hair from his face. Minghao nods and pulls his hand out to gently slip another finger into Mingyu. Here, is where he finally starts to feel the stretch again. In the last months of their relationship, Mingyu found it was too intimate to do any sort of _this_ kind of thing with Enna. But Minghao looks him in the eye when he tilts his head to the side and presses a kiss to the crease underneath Mingyu’s knee. Mingyu lets out a small whimper. 

“Fuck. Minghao— another, _please_.” 

Minghao dutifully pours more lube on his hand before he slowly, so fucking slowly, pushes a third finger. 

Minghao’s eyes go dark as he watches his fingers disappear into Mingyu. “You’re so tight inside, Mingyu.”

Mingyu blinks fast as Minghao picks up his pace, leaning back on his ankles and fucking Mingyu in earnest. Mingyu lets his head fall back against the pillows and whines loudly. Minghao grinds his fingers in, pulls them out until they’re almost falling out of Mingyu and then fucks them back in harshly. Mingyu reaches down and wraps a hand around his cock, rubbing his fingers in the precome dripping out of the head to use as lube. 

Minghao continues talking as Mingyu reduces to pathetic whimpers and long drawn out cries, telling him how good he looks, how much he likes him. If Mingyu couldn’t see and feel Minghao’s own cock, straining against his underwear and pressed to Mingyu’s ass, then he’d think that Minghao was perfectly fine just getting Mingyu off like this. But Mingyu isn’t. 

He takes his hand away from his cock, whimpering at the loss, and reaches down to grab the outline of Minghao’s cock through his underwear. Minghao groans and fucks forward into his hand, losing his pace for the first time. 

“Your cock, Minghao. I want it.” 

Minghao shivers and slides out of his underwear. Mingyu pours lube into his hand and jacks Minghao off to spread it over his dick. He savours the chest deep groans Minghao makes and they make his own cock twitch and leak against his stomach. 

He leans back flat against the bed. “Now, now.” 

Minghao sets a hand on the bed beside Mingyu’s head for balance, the other guiding his cock inside Mingyu. 

Mingyu gasps. “Hold on for a second.” 

“Hurts?” Minghao asks. His voice is rough and gritty with effort. He sounds— affected and that alone is enough to send a spine thrilling wave of arousal down his back. 

Mingyu winces. “A little. Give me some time...” 

Minghao nods shakily and his head drops down to the crook of Mingyu’s neck. Mingyu strokes the back of his head. 

“Feels good?” He asks. Minghao nods again, frantic. _First_ is a big word, suddenly. It weighs down on Mingyu’s chest, worms down into his ribs and makes itself known. 

Mingyu slowly starts moving his hips, bearing down on Minghao. He can tell the pace is torturous to Minghao, and— in a way, it’s just as hard for Mingyu too. 

“Shit. Minghao— you can go faster.” He says at last. Minghao raises himself up, lifting Mingyu’s hips and fucking into him faster and harder. Mingyu loops his arms around his neck and knocks their foreheads together. “It feel good?” He asks again, half delirious with lust. “Tell me. Tell me it feels good, Hao.” 

“Yeah. Yeah it feels so good. Thank you.” 

Mingyu kisses him desperately. The way Minghao pistons into him— clings to him— whispers Mingyu’s name into his mouth. It’s visceral. It’s like hunger. Base nature craving— can’t live without it. 

“I like you so much.” Mingyu says, one hand wrapped around the back of Minghao’s neck, tangled deeply in his black hair. 

Minghao groans in response. Mingyu feels the muscles in his thighs lock up, a sign that Minghao is probably about to come soon. Mingyu’s stomach tightens in anticipation. 

“Are you close, Minghao?” He asks. Minghao murmurs a hurried yes. Mingyu wraps a hand around his wet cock and starts pumping it hastily. “You can - in me - you can do that.” He pants. 

Minghao groans. “Yeah - nnh - thank you. I like you too. So much, Mingyu.” 

Mingyu screws his eyes tight as the words send him hurtling over the edge. He can’t help but jerk up as he spills into his hand, fucking up into his fist. Minghao presses his hips into the mattress, hard enough to bruise. Mingyu can feel his cock pump inside him, as Minghao tips over too. It’s hot and wet and good. 

Minghao pulls out slowly, admiring the mess he made of Mingyu, ropes of cum sticking from his hole to Minghao’s cock. Mingyu shudders as Minghao leans down and presses a kiss to the wet head of Mingyu’s cock. 

“Love you.” He says. Mingyu shuts his eyes but Minghao keeps going, kissing up his chest and neck until he gets to Mingyu’s mouth. They kiss softly, Minghao holding both of Mingyu’s arms so Mingyu has no choice but to lie there and be kissed. Eventually, Minghao lets go to roam his hands all over Mingyu’s body but still Mingyu doesn’t move to touch him back. 

It’s horrifyingly intimate is what it is. Mingyu feels open and vulnerable, like Minghao ran a knife down Mingyu’s skin and peeled it back, baring everything he is to him. Mingyu can only hope he likes what he sees. 

“I love you, Mingyu.” Minghao says suddenly, looking him in the eye. 

Mingyu swallows. “I love you too.” 

Minghao sighs, radiating contentment. He drops his head down onto Mingyu’s chest, ear over heart, and Mingyu doesn’t have it in him to tell Minghao they need to clean up. Instead, he lifts a hand and strokes it down Minghao’s hair. Minghao sighs again. 

“Mingyu, I’m so happy. You make me so happy.” He says, almost giddy. 

“.. Me too Minghao. You make me happy too.” 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Minghao is at the window, looking out, when Mingu comes to join him. Minghao turns and wraps his arms around Mingyu’s shoulders to draw him in for a kiss. Mingyu obliges easily, bending low and humming into it. Minghao breaks away and smiles up at him. 

  
  


He loves to show his affection like this— in between touches and caring gestures Mingyu learns that Minghao isn’t much of a vocal lover. Where Mingyu is clumsy with his words, Minghao excels by simply not talking at all. And the sex— the sex is _amazing_ . Minghao’s newfound delight in drawing it out as long as he possibly can keeps them both hovering on the edge, but makes the final tip off _that_ much sweeter. Mingyu learns the meaning of vulnerability gasping in Minghao’s arms. 

He’s never been happier in his life. 

But the storm never lets up, and sooner or later, Mingyu has to remember that he still has a family and a job to keep back in Seoul. He finds himself feeling guilty, despondent, torn between his life on and off the mountain— inside and outside the four walls of this cabin. 

And then there’s Minghao. He still can’t remember anything about his past life— or whether it exists at all. Mingyu desperately wants him out of the cabin— down the mountain and inside his apartment so he can touch him and make sure he’s _real_. Mostly, he just wants to provide for Minghao in a way he can’t up here. 

“There’s a chain link fence behind the cabin,” Mingyu starts. Minghao makes a face and opens his mouth but Mingyu cuts him off. “I know you don’t want to leave, but this is for me too, Minghao. I need to get back.” 

Minghao drops back into the couch. “You’re going to leave me here?” 

“No - _Hell_ no, Minghao. I want you with me. Always.” Mingyu stands and sits next to Minghao, smoothing his hair back from his face and cupping it gently. “I want you to come with me.” 

Minghao sniffs a little, almost imperceptible. He turns and kisses the heart of Mingyu’s palm and Mingyu picks up Minghao’s hand and kisses it too. When he looks up, Minghao’s eyes are glistening. He looks— He looks in love, and painfully so. Mingyu’s heart twists to match his. “Come with me.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> pls leave kudos/comments... thank u to my darling beta ilysm


End file.
